


North Star

by littlemissbaphomet



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Adorable Adam Raki, Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Catholic Character, Catholic Imagery, Christmas Fluff, Cute Adam Raki, Explicit Language, Hugh Dancy/Mads Mikkelsen Character Combinations, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Roman Catholicism, Short One Shot, Smitten Nigel (Charlie Countryman)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21966739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissbaphomet/pseuds/littlemissbaphomet
Summary: Teaser:  A bandage partially obstructed Nigel's view but he could make out a person standing at HIS food replicator snuggled in his favorite blue shirt decorated with playful long dogs. Really? Fucking really?Gift fic and pic created for  hyunglove on Tumblr for the 2017 #HannibalHoliday ExchangeA Fannibal Digital Gift Exchange!Original.post link:https://littlemissbaphomet.tumblr.com/post/189867439233/littlemissbaphomet-gift-fic-and-pic-createdSpacedogs AU set in the Star Trek (TOS) universe /Adam (2009) /Charlie Countryman (2013)Not beta read. Re-written, proofread, spell checked, tweaked, un-tweaked and re-tweaked by littlemissbaphomet for maximum gift giving impact - 2933 words my first fic in ages
Relationships: Nigel (Charlie Countryman)/Adam Raki
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	North Star

[ ](https://littlemissbaphomet.tumblr.com/post/189874789498)

[Original work as displayed on Tumblr](https://littlemissbaphomet.tumblr.com/post/189874789498)

Klaxons rang out jolting Nigel awake. Sleep-deprived eyes struggled through strands of tousled hair to view the near object collision monitor. The scavenger ship North Star lurched; course correction was not an option -- Nigel was unceremoniously ejected from the command chair sleepy strands of drool flung from his mouth. Knees crunched into metal with a sickening snap.  
"Fuck. Fuck. Fu--uh--Fuck!"  
Nigel rolled around in pain clutching knees to his chest while the tractor beam auto engaged engulfing the object before it could spin off into space.  
"Dracu ' mi! Dracu ' mi! Bucată de rahat spaţiu gunoi..." *  
* instant Romanian translation (Fuck me! Fuck me! Piece of shit space garbage ...)

Furiously Nigel dug in a crate of medical devices he picked up at an Andorian trading post looking for anything to restore structural integrity to his battered knees. He watched the monitor with half an eye as the artifact was hauled, docked and secured automatically. Scans indicated it was a type of manned space capsule. It looked barely space worthy -- he shook his head blonde hair falling across his forehead --how had it survived any type of orbit?

A second skull splitting alarm had Nigel on his feet hobbling toward the depressurized airlock. Radiation shielding didn't engage the capsule; his mind ran through every scenario -- a life form? -- He was being boarded! Nigel's trained fingers unlocked his black-market Starfleet phaser – he set it to kill. The capsule opened -- a figure in a bulky exo-suit and bulbous helmet wobbled and crawled out.

Heavy feet clanged as the figure loped at him despite harsh orders in several languages to halt and stay where you are. Bulky headgear seemed to block out Nigel's jarring commands -- closer and closer it came gloved appendage reaching out.  
Nigel fired a warning shot in front of the odd space being. the exo-suit reversed its gravitational field; heavy magnetized boots were planted firmly on the upper hull. The figure twisted to grab onto secured cargo netting – limbs clutched wildly disconnecting the netting upsetting its carefully stowed contents. Hazel eyes tracked an older gold toned storage tote as it tumbled towards the floor.

"Meu scena naşterii!" (My nativity scene!)  
Battered knees sunk to the floor -- Nigel reached up to intercept the precious cargo. Carefully wrapped figurines spilled from the carton's open lid and clink upon the deck. Nigel dared not breathe; the interloper swung above -- a priceless family heirloom scattered below. "Dă-te jos de acolo!" A tight hiss from thin lips. (Get down from there!)  
The cumbersome suit spontaneously ejected various pieces thunking to the deck. A metallic glove fell and stuck two of the figures the head of a Magi was cleaved off; the manager devoid of the Christ child was badly chipped. Nigel looked on in horror as the wise man's head rolled into a dark corner. He looked above just as the figure produced a very human hand holding up an index finger as if to say – I'll be with you in a moment.  
"Nu şurub cu mine!" (Don't screw with me!)  
Nigel's tone motivated the fingers of the spaceman to work feverishly to disengage the helmet. With a loud pop the heavy dome fell cracking Nigel on the head then crunching the wooden nativity crèche **.  
"Nenorocitule..." Nigel seethed. (Motherfucker...)  
Blood streaming from his scalp Nigel dropped down to his ruined knees; eyes shifting above to see what fresh hell awaited him. He made out the face of an enchanting human male bathed in a white light with a concerned look on his gentle features. Nigel stared mouth agape as the man shook chocolate brown curls and looked down at him through thick eyelashes framing eyes the color of the highly habitable blue atmosphere of Earth.  
"Superba băiat..." Nigel swooned. (Gorgeous boy...)  
"I'm s-sorry is your universal translator malfunctioning? You seem to be speaking an archaic Earth language. My name is Lt. Adam Raki. I'm a Starfleet historian. You have a head injury."  
"Iesus ajuta-ma." (Jesus help me.)  
"You're bleeding, sir – let me help. I don't think the Earth god you called can help with this."  
"You're the reason I'm bleeding. But, hell, why the fuck not?"  
"You DO speak the Federation Standard language. Are you human?"  
"Of course, I'm human! Are you?" Nigel scoffed vision blurring.  
Lt. Adam Raki blinked and stared past the disagreeable albeit handsome man trying to ignore muttered profanities. He seemed to cause unexpected reactions when he met new people.  
Scooting along the ship's overhead hull he walked down the wall and settled with a definitive clang on the deck. He assessed the damage to the failing capsule. Repairable. He assessed the damage he'd caused to ship captain's cargo. Unknown. The damage to a sentient lifeform was of the utmost priority. Adam scanned the bay for a med kit. A sobering realization took hold – he would've been dead if this man hadn't saved him from his ill-fated experiment. Adam had to make it up to the captain no matter how frightening he was.  
"Hey, Adam! How about the assistance you offered...huh?" The accented voice snapped Adam's mind back from within.  
"Please call me Lt. Raki; I'm a commissioned Starfleet officer."  
"Adam. Adam. Adam. Fucking Adam!" Nigel droned. Just because this piece of space trash had a hidden treasure inside didn't mean Nigel was ready to forgive and forget. No way was he letting this curious interloper off the hook. "What the fuck are you wearing anyhow? Take that ridiculous thing off before you break all my shit." Nigel rolled his eyes -- Starfleet Officer Adam seemed to inhabit his own personal little universe.  
Refocusing his energy Adam removed the vintage exo-suit; he smiled…no damage caused. He felt eyes scrutinizing him as he retrieved his tricorder -- perhaps his own mind playing tricks. Adam observed the man make a grand spectacle dragging himself to a corner; clutch something to his chest and return in the same fashion. What if he had a weapon? Adam's natural innocence and curiosity clashed with the fact that he may be in danger-- what if he needed to defend himself?  
"I'm sorry I damaged your cargo tote. It looks like it was very precious to you." Adam offered – half apology – half attempt to diffuse the tension.  
Nigel rolled onto his back with an abrupt grunt fixing steely eyes up to his visitor.  
"I beg your pardon, Adam, did you say was? Honestly, fucking was? No, Adam, not fucking was precious. Fucking is precious. Fucking meaning you're fucking going to repair all damages to my personal property on behalf of the mighty fucking Federation.”  
"Excuse me?" Adam blinked.  
"That's an order, lieutenant!"  
Adam snapped to attention then cringed fully expecting to be executed for trespassing. He'd never encountered another human so threatening in his entire life. He couldn't see a weapon –he turned his back to the man closing perfect blue eyes in preparation for the end. A shuddering sigh punctuated with a substantial flop – Adam’s head whipped back to see his savior now lying prone on the deck. He’d succumbed to the bleeding head wound; unnecessary over-exertion and an ingrained foul temperament; definitely human. Long tan fingers unclenched; a small decapitated head wearing a crown rolled onto the deck bumping Adam's feet. The situation had resolved itself. Adam smiled.  
In his private quarters Nigel woke to the smell of his mother's sarmale and cozonac romanesc.*** Eyes opened cautiously remembering he’d suffered an unexpected blow to the head. Blonde locks shook expecting pain that didn't come; backs of hands grazed knees – no injuries not so much as a stiff back. The luscious smells brought back fond memories of Christmases past; Nigel was tempted to stand up.  
The bedside console displayed his beloved wooden nativity crèche housing Mary, Joseph and myriad farm animals; in its place of honor a fully repaired manger absent baby Jesus. The figures had been carefully placed exactly how Nigel did season after season. If he wasn’t mistaken it appeared that exact measurements were taken to space the figurines evenly.  
A bandage partially obstructed Nigel's view but he could make out a person standing at HIS food replicator snuggled in his favorite blue shirt decorated with playful long dogs. Really? Fucking really? Nigel slouched under the covers not wanting to deal with his visitor just quite yet.  
Over the days Nigel was recovering Adam busied himself setting the North Star back on course curiously pointing to Polaris – the current astronomically correct northern star from Earth in the constellation Ursa Major/Sol system. Polaris' status wasn't due to change for 13,748**** years so he felt confident it was where Nigel had his ship resting pre-collision. The spacewalk to repair the hull was easy for Adam. Researching and repairing the nativity and figurines went well. Cooking Nigel's family recipes for the upcoming Christmas holiday was enjoyable. Hacking Nigel's personal database to get the family recipes was most rewarding. He learned more about the gruff seeming man and discovered some interesting information about his past life as a fellow Starfleet Officer. It was something they had in common – maybe -- possibly --statistically likely? The dread of having to deal with an actual conscious Nigel made Adam gulp with reluctance. Adam ventured into Nigel's bedroom choosing to approach the situation as a potentially hazardous spacewalk.  
"Nigel? Nigel, are you awake?"  
Adam's voice was so quiet he barely heard himself. He hadn't spoken outside of giving instructions to various shipboard systems. Nigel stirred lightly and groaned stretching his arms above his head.  
Hazel eyes slowed opened. "Hello, gorgeous."  
Adam glanced behind himself to see who Nigel was speaking to. The sound of clapping brought his attention back to Nigel who cracked a sharp toothed smile and pointed a finger at Adam's chest.  
"Adam, I'm talking to – well -- you..." Nigel trailed off.  
"Are you sexually attracted to me Nigel? It’s ok if you are I just needed to ask. I don't always pick up subtleness."  
Nigel opened his mouth and closed it. This was new. Hello, gorgeous wasn’t subtle yet he'd never been asked such a simple, direct question. Refreshingly, Adam got right down to the point. Sure, Nigel was initially pissed but everything seemed to be repaired and in order – his body included– his knees alone were 300% better post-Adam. The innocent, beautiful man was an odd duck perhaps part Vulcan; Nigel's curiosity was piqued.  
Their first encounter aside the Starfleet lieutenant was quite competent and capable after all. Adam held his own on the North Star while its captain was unconscious. Adam also being the reason he was unconscious. Did Adam drug him? He had to of been drugged. Brows furrowing Nigel frowned.

Nigel was attracted to absent-minded Adam more than he cared to admit. He wasn't necessarily picky about sexual partners; the cache of Andorian medical devices was proof. He'd slept with at least three of the four Andorian sexes; part of the lifestyle he’d chosen after getting tossed out of Starfleet. Nigel's heart sunk...any Starfleet officer would be duty bound to turn him in. The decision was made -- Nigel couldn't recover just yet he had to win Adam over first. The lieutenant had given all Nigel hastily and rudely demanded; what would this darling boy give if asked politely?  
"My tricorder readings show you should be at 100% Nigel; how do you feel?"  
"I don't fucking feel 100%, Adam. What's to be done about that? Why don't you reverse my polarity or whatever it is Starfleet officers do?" Politeness was not in Nigel's wheelhouse.  
"That's a gross misrepresentation of the work Starfleet does -- you – uh -- -know."  
"Is it now?"  
"Y-yes, Nigel. It is."  
"How do you know my name?" hazel eyes fixed upon sky blue.  
"Y-your s-ship m-m-manifest."  
"You’re talking weird Adam. Did you scan yourself? Of course, you did. Starfleet's best and brightest!" Nigel grumped. "I'm going back to sleep. My head hurts. Don't you dare let me sleep past Christmas Eve, Adam – you owe me that much. And Adam? Take. Off. My. Fucking. SHIRT!"  
Adam’s second attempt at waking the cantankerous captain was more determined. Tricorder readings were checked and tripled checked for reasons unknown his reluctant host did not want to admit he was fully functional.  
"Nigel...?" A hazel eye cracked open. "Would you like to urinate in the lavatory now or should I leave the catheter in place?"  
Nigel sunk as far into the mattress as he could. "Leave it, Adam. OK?" His deception was discovered but he thrilled at the thought of Adam's delicate ministrations while he lay unconscious. With the cath in he wouldn't have to leave bed until he was damn good and ready.  
As the days passed Nigel became more congenial. Nigel loved to talk about himself and Adam loved to listen. Nigel eventually decided to return to the land of the living by taking a hot shower and changing clothes. Adam never pushed but was grateful when Nigel relinquished his bed and padded towards the lavatory.  
One night Adam absentmindedly sat down on the bed while talking he didn’t recall falling asleep but woke to find the captain’s arm protectively curled around him. From then on they bunked together in matching blue playful long dog shirts.  
\--Christmas Eve--  
“So you’ve decided NOT to turn me in to Starfleet?” Nigel queried mouth full of sarmale.***  
“How could I? You saved my life.”  
“True, that. You’ve perfected my good mother’s cabbage rolls, Adam. A promotion may be in your future.”  
Adam laughed; synthehol coming out his nose. Nigel beamed -- Adam was so fucking adorable.  
Nigel gestured towards the dining module “Since it’s Christmas Eve let me replicate something to really warm your belly.”  
“How did you modify the synthehol settings on your illegally acquired officer's lounge Starfleet food replicator? It’s dispensing real rum!” Adam hiccupped. Nigel smiled knowingly -- Adam wasn't the only one with elite Starfleet training.  
“Nigel, can we get a Christmas tree to go with your nativity set?”  
“Sure, gorgeous -- I'll just warp to the nearest class M planet -- find the closest thing to a coniferous evergreen – and blast it down in front of the developing culture worshipping it as their god.”  
Adam gasped “You can’t do that! That was silly we don’t need a tree”. Nigel tidied up replacing Adam’s rum with water. The boy couldn’t hold his liquor. “I would never violate the prime directive, gorgeous. Almost never, anyways.”  
“I heard that!”  
\--Christmas Day--  
Nigel awoke to an excited Adam cradling baby Jesus in his hands.  
"Jesus este motivul pentru acest sezon; set him in the manger, Adam."  
(Jesus is the reason for the season.)  
The day is spent enjoying each other’s company and stuffing themselves on rich fruit bread. Nigel realizing how lonely he was and Adam rejoicing in someone who accepted him as is.  
\--New Year’s Eve Day—  
“Are there pointy ears under all those wonderful curls?”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
\-- New Year’s Eve--  
"Saruta-ma?" (Kiss me?)  
“Perhaps, next year.” Adam winked.  
“So…a few minutes then?”  
“Close your eyes until I say to open them.”  
Nigel squeezed his eyes tight with anticipation.  
“You may open your eyes now.”  
Adam sprawled on the bed clad in a pair of bright yellow underwear. Twelve plated grapes and a suitcase sat next to him. “Time for you to learn some of MY holiday traditions, Nigel.”

**Author's Note:**

> (* instant Romanian translation - why wait till the end of the fic for my incorrect Romanian internet translations?)  
> (** crèche: a model or tableau representing the scene of Jesus Christ's birth -- had to work in an attempted murder tableau because this is written for a fannibal by a fannibal)  
> (*** sarmale : stuffed cabbage rolls / cozonac romanesc: traditional Romanian Christmas rich fruit bread )  
> (**** Presently, Polaris is Earth’s North Star but it hasn't always been. It's estimated that in 14,000 years from now 2017-another star will be closest to Earth's northernmost point. Adam's calculations subtract 252 years from 14,000 =13,748 this story takes place the last few weeks of star date 2269 the new year Adam & Nigel are celebrating is 2270. The original series took place from 2265 to 2269, almost exactly three centuries after the episodes aired. Our Spacedogs AU starts at the end of TOS and travels into the undocumented years leading up to TNG.)  
> (***** Nigel got tossed out of Starfleet for swearing. Fuck!)  
> (****** Non-Colombians google yellow underwear on New Year’s Eve.)
> 
> Gift fic and pic created for hyunglove from littlemissbaphomet  
> #HannibalHoliday Exchange 2017


End file.
